


Stay By My Side (It's the Little Things)

by nicki_fin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of confusing interactions and fluff, Angst, But also, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Sakusa Kiyoomi, Pining Sakusa Kiyoomi, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Protective Brother Osamu, Sakusa is secretly stupid you can't change my mind, Slow Burn, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicki_fin/pseuds/nicki_fin
Summary: Knowing Miya Atsumu was probably the most confusing thing to ever happen to Sakusa.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

Everything comes to an end. 

Sakusa has come face-to-face with this truth many times in his life. His senpais pursued their futures, his class eventually graduated, and he was separated from Komori for the first time in years when Sakusa went off to college, left to fend for himself.

Sakusa found comfort in routine, and in controlling what he could. It put his mind at ease to see things exactly how he expected it. Of course, change is inevitable, and everything ends ― Sakusa knows this ― but he was going to play volleyball for as long as he could, and he would hold on to the Jackals until they kicked him out themselves.

One thing that has pleasantly stayed the same throughout the years was Atsumu. Miya Atsumu, who’s been starting setter for the Jackals for longer than Sakusa has been on the team. Atsumu, who seems to have matured a bit but is still the same smug asshole he was when they met at the All-Youth training camp. He has never seemed to consider signing a contract with another team, content to bring the Jackals to the top, and Sakusa was secretly grateful. As much as Atsumu was an asshole, he was also… considerate. 

A little after Sakusa first joins the team, Atsumu approaches him alone, as he was the only one left in the changing room before practice started.

“Hey, Sakkun!” Sakusa turns to look at Atsumu, carrying his practice clothes and standing in the doorway. He's so close to being late but has a leisurely energy about him. Sakusa doesn’t respond; he simply lifts an eyebrow in silent question. “I was lookin’ stuff up last night, an’ did you know that there’s like 2,000 bacteria on each square centimeter of our skin or someth’n?”

“Of course I know,” he responds flatly, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, what was going through Atsumu’s head? He’s preaching to the choir. 

“Alright, jeez, I’m just tryna start a conversation!” Atsumu huffs, exasperated. He starts to lift his shirt, and Sakusa swiftly averts his gaze to take the rest of his own clothes out of his bag. “Well anyway, I was just sayin’ it kinda makes sense now.”

_What?_

“What?” Sakusa looks back over to where Atsumu is pulling his practice shirt on.

“Y’know! Yer…” Atsumu gestures wildly with his hands “...yer germ thing!” Sakusa just blinks at him. Atsumu lets out a defeated sigh. “Yer uh… mice-o-phobia.”

“Yeah, I get it. Why are we bringing this up?” No one has ever researched or put thought into Sakusa’s needs before. Everybody just assumed he was a prickly and uptight guy and moved on with their lives, staying clear of him. For consideration to be coming from Atsumu of all people was, frankly, a little unbelievable. Hearing his question, Atsumu starts, stuttering and tripping over his words. 

“Well, I was just-! It’s-! I- I dunno! I just didn’ wanna pat yer back or someth’n an’ have ya freak out on me! It’s ta save my time ‘n energy!” Now Sakusa rolls his eyes. What an ass _._ He sees Atsumu flush, likely with embarrassment. 

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I know that! I just… look, all I wanted to say was, I get it now, sorta. I don’ think it’s crazy or irrational or whatever. Not that I get the full extent of yer fear but like... Ya have a point. Especially with stuff ya touch. Jeez! I never knew how gross a phone was,” Atsumu pauses and makes a face. “But it kinda backfired, cuz now imma be thinking about how nasty it is, but I don’ wanna get my phone all sticky ‘n shit if I clean it.”

At this, Sakusa raises his brows. He never expected Atsumu to actually want to be hygienic. He carefully considers the worth of continuing the conversation.

“There’s a brand of disinfectant wipes I use. They aren’t too soapy, and they’re not super wet either. You could use them for your phone,” Hearing this, Atsumu’s eyes shine.

“Givin’ me yer secrets huh?” _What on Earth was he talking about…_ Sakusa holds back a snide remark. “Where d’ya buy em?”

“A konbini in Kano.”

“The other side of Osaka huh… kinda far just fer wipes, but I should be okay with a bus,” Atsumu seems very pleased with this new knowledge, as if he had been given access to classified information, and shows Sakusa a small but genuine smile. On the receiving end of it, Sakusa was beginning to feel weird about this situation. He and Atsumu were… having a conversation? And… bonding? Over something that _Sakusa_ cared about? If he’d been told the day before this would happen, he might’ve laughed. “Text me the address ‘n brand later, kay?”

“Uh, sure,” That’s a first. He and Atsumu rarely texted, and even then it was purely for departure times. He didn’t think either of them was keen on changing that fact until now.

“Hurry up, yer gonna ruin yer perfect attendance if ya don’ finish changin’ soon,” Atsumu’s smile slides easily into a shit-eating smirk. Fuck. He hadn’t even realized that Atsumu finished changing. Meanwhile, Sakusa was still only half-dressed.

“And whose fault would that be?” Sakusa asks petulantly. Atsumu’s smirk just grows impossibly wider as he turns and skips off to the court. Sakusa rushes to replace his shirt and catch up.

After that moment, he and Atsumu seemed to get along more, and if Sakusa always sat by him during bus rides and team-talks, that was for him to deny. Atsumu seemed to figure out his cleaning habits and favorite brands, and helped his bus-cleaning process move faster, that's all. It was easier, and at least he could trust Atsumu to not be filthy. 

Sakusa _did_ text him what he wanted to know, but it didn’t stop there like he thought it would. Atsumu seemed to take this as a sign he had permission to text and spam him anything that popped into his head. It was usually memes Sakusa didn’t understand or pure stream-of-consciousness. For the most part, Sakusa had three-word responses, if any, but Atsumu just seemed to take that as encouragement. He would text him at least once a day, but oftentimes it was a lot more; it usually depended on if he had a phone call with Osamu, where he would rant about what an ‘annoying dick’ his brother was. Texting Atsumu was one change in Sakusa’s routine that he didn’t particularly mind (not that he would ever admit that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA This is my first fic ever, and never planned to write anything, but I'm in desperate need of SakuAtsu content and if you want something, make it yourself, right? I think this is a little more boring than I intended but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I plan to make art for this fic eventually so check me out on Instagram @nicki.fin.__ 
> 
> I plan to update every Wednesday and I have multiple chapters already written, so hopefully I stay on schedule!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and they were roommates (if only for a night)

‘Omi’ was a particularly grating nickname coined by Atsumu just a week after he started to text him regularly. At first, Sakusa tried to erase it from existence, but it, unfortunately, stuck with the rest of the team. Hearing it come out of his teammates' mouths was beyond embarrassing; it made him feel like he couldn't be taken seriously. Years of building his persona, down the drain. It was at its worst when Atsumu said it himself. The horrible feeling of warmth making its way from his face down to his very core could only be described as extremely concerning. The first time he heard the name come out of Atsumu's mouth with his teasing lilt and _that_ voice, Sakusa genuinely considered going to the hospital. Sakusa later identified it as searing rage and felt a bit reassured that he wasn't going to drop dead, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless. He's pretty sure he's gotten used to the name by now, the flashes of scorching heat simmering down to an almost comfortable thaw.

It did have one upside: it was so cutesy that everyone was immediately put at ease, despite Sakusa’s unapproachableness, and started to talk to him outside of volleyball. Who could fear and respect someone called “Omi-Omi”? While initially uncomfortable, Sakusa was glad he had a shortcut and didn’t have to make friends the hard way and actually talk to them himself.

However, since Atsumu was the one to come up with it and used it the most frequently ― _seriously, sometimes it was like he said it just to say it_ ― everyone was under the assumption that Sakusa was closest to him. While they weren’t wrong, he _supposes_ , _technically_ , he wishes they didn’t think that, because now Atsumu was always his roommate for away-games. He doesn’t blame the others for not wanting to put up with his high standard of cleanliness, but he definitely blames them for subjecting him to Atsumu.

“You’re a menace,” Sakusa declares the moment Atsumu flops down onto his bed, exhausted from the long trip.

Atsumu squawks in offense. “Excuse me??”

“You put your filthy bag, which has been _on the floor_ , right where you’re going to sleep,” Sakusa grimaces just thinking about it. Atsumu’s bag was already raggedy from years of wear-and-tear and mindlessly throwing it around without a second thought. Despite the fact that it holds his sweaty clothes and who-knows-what half the time, Sakusa doubts he ever washes it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’ realize I was gonna be sucking off my bed covers!”

“WHAT??” Sakusa raises his voice, scandalized, because really, who talks like that?

“Y’know what I meant!” 

“No, actually, I don’t. Because that’s not a saying. Enlighten me: what exactly did you mean by your disgusting phrasing?”

Atsumu, looking red in the face and thoroughly annoyed, scrambles for an answer. 

“Well, I just meant, y’know, it’s not like the germs are gonna go inside me or someth’n,” Sakusa can’t deal with this right now. _His phrasing is just getting worse_ . “Why d’ya care anyway? It’s not like yer sleeping on here with me,” Atsumu pauses and grins like he just had the most brilliant thought. “Unless… that _is_ what yer planning to do,” he adds suggestively.

Sakusa thinks he might feel his cheeks heat a little. He just fixes him with a hard glare, which only seems to add to Atsumu’s delight. Leave it to Atsumu to say the most salacious things as if it were his life’s purpose. 

“Don’t be crass, Miya,” he attempts to shut Atsumu down quickly, though it’s a fruitless endeavor because now his eyes are swimming with mirth. 

“Yer no fun,” he says, even though he seems to be having the time of his life. If Sakusa were reaching, he might say Atsumu sounded fond. "What, afraid you might like it~?" 

_That_ gets Sakusa's attention. With a sharp inhale, he tenses and shifts forward. He didn't have a plan, but he thinks he's ready to hit Atsumu right about now. How dare he insinuate that he would- and with _Atsumu-_ It was just ridiculous.

“Don’t get yer cute lil’ moles in a twist, Omi-kun. I’ll wash em if it’ll help ya sleep at night.”

 _Cute moles? He thinks they’re cute?_ Sakusa has no idea why this particular detail sticks with him, or why it’s making him so embarrassed. He can feel even more heat climbing onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears, if that’s possible. He really hopes his face isn’t red, because Atsumu would definitely take advantage of how it misleadingly looks like he’s flustered and make fun of him. It turns out that Sakusa didn’t need to hope that because Atsumu is hopping off of the bed and turning to take off the now-infected bed covers without a second glance.

Atsumu, oblivious to anything going on in Sakusa’s head, continues the conversation while he peels off the blanket. 

“When’re ya gonna stop calling me ‘Miya’, by the way? Nobody else does. I’m still in the habit of wonderin’ ‘which one’ whenever I hear it, even though Samu…” he trails off, losing energy. This makes Sakusa take pause, looking at Atsumu’s figure. He thinks maybe his shoulders are a little more slumped over than usual. Atsumu seems to shake himself out of whatever’s going on in his head and quickly picks himself back up. “Y’know. So just call me Atsumu, yeah?”

“No."

“Why not??” 

“I call everyone by their last names. I call my own cousin by his last name.”

“But ya call Ushiwaka ‘Wakatoshi-kun’...”

“That’s because I respect him.”

“ _WOW!_ Now tha’s jus’ plain rude, not jus’ ta me, but ta poor Toya-kun!” Atsumu has an adorable habit of slipping back into a heavier accent whenever he’s riled up, Sakusa notices. “I swear, everyone thinks I’m the jerk when yer over here bein’ the biggest asshole I’ve ever met!”

“That’s because you do it to be annoying whereas I’m just honest.” 

“WHAT?! That ain’t true! My ‘jerkiness’ is honesty, too! I’m sayin’ what I really think! What’s the difference?”

“Well, the way you phrase your thoughts is shitty.”

Atsumu starts to retaliate, but then thinks better of it.

“Tch, yer the worst,” he mutters, admitting defeat. He quickly moves on, lifting up the covers in his arms to bring attention to it. “I’m gonna put this in the washer, then we can start sanitizin’ the bathroom ‘n stuff,” Sakusa fights the look of surprise off his face. He didn’t think Atsumu was going to help him clean, let alone suggest they do it together. They’ve roomed together twice before this, but this is the first time Atsumu offered to help.

He looks at Atsumu, hair mostly relaxed from the gel after a long day. Stray strands of light blonde fall into his face, and his hair actually looks soft in the dim hotel lights. His face muscles are also more relaxed than they'd been. In the privacy of the room, without the need to perform, Atsumu looks... pleasant. Not to say that he wasn't nice to look at all times, which is regrettable for Sakusa to _not_ admit, but the strange vulnerable energy in the room is doing things to his perception of Atsumu. He thinks he feels a faint flutter in his chest.

“I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, ya big lone wolf. Just wait fer me, I’ll be back in a minute,” _Honestly. What a presumptuous guy._ On top of that, he thinks he can just tell Sakusa what to do.

He waits the entire 3 minutes 23 seconds that Atsumu is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic Atsumu lives in my head rent-free...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu has a firm grip on Sakusa's shoulder

It turns out Atsumu is a better roommate than Sakusa gave him credit for. His cleaning wasn’t perfect, but leagues above what he thought he was capable of. He graciously did not eat in the room, and mostly stayed quiet when it got to be Sakusa’s hour of sleep, though he poked fun at “widdle baby Omi-Omi-kun havin’ a bedtime”. He actually managed to get a decent night’s rest, and felt very focused during their game against the EJP Raijins the next day. They managed to win 2 sets to 1, and the last set was won by a pretty wide margin, Sakusa notes happily. 

His high spirits did not last. He was scheduled to have an televised interview two hours after they finished the game, which gave him just enough time to go to the hotel, shower, and head back to the stadium for the recording. Everyone on the Black Jackals would be talking to this reporter, but it just so happened that Sakusa was up first. He was honestly glad to get it out of the way, but kind of wished at least one person went before him so they could tell him what to expect.

  
  
  


That’s what he thought 30 minutes ago. Now, he wishes they’d told him so he could’ve escaped well in advance. 

“Sakusa-senshu! I’m Yamamoto, the one who scheduled the interview. I apologize for taking up your time after your long game today!” A young woman in a ponytail approaches him in the waiting room. Yamamoto Akane, Sakusa recalls belatedly. He acknowledges her with a nod, face relaxing a bit; she seems friendly.

“Excuse me!” A staff member calls from behind Akane in the doorway. He’s carrying a large box full of a random assortment of things. “Sakusa-senshu, this box was brought in by a fan after the match. It’s been cleared, so I’ll leave it with you.”

“... Thank you,” Sakusa keeps his face carefully neutral, stifling a grimace as the faculty moves to set the box next to him on the metal bench. He quickly brainstorms for a reason to not put it down; no way he’s taking this home with him. He makes eye contact with the staff member. “... if you want any of it, you can share it with everyone,” Akane seems to light up at this.

“That’s so nice of you!” She blurts out. He holds her gaze with a confused look of his own. “Oh, well, uh, I just thought that you were really kind to share with the staff like that.” 

_Oh. So she’s got the wrong idea._

“Not really…” He keeps it simple. He’s ready to get on with the interview when-

“THAT’S NOT IT!” With a shout, Atsumu suddenly bursts into the room. Akane quickly turns to him, clearly confused to see him when it’s not his turn for an interview. “That ain’t it. Omi-kun is afraid and won’t touch em,” Akane falls deeper into bewilderment.

“Eh?” 

But now Atsumu’s attention is on Sakusa. 

“They’re heartfelt gifts from fans, Omi-kun,” He drawls, making his way over to Sakusa and the box, placing a firm grip on his shoulder. Sakusa isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about the contact. Before he can make up his mind, Atsumu continues. “You can use em ― the shirts and towels ‘n stuff. Here, take this one, and this too,” He starts handing Sakusa the presents one by one. 

Sakusa’s attention is still incredibly focused on the warm pressure on his shoulder. Ever since Atsumu came to understand his mysophobia, them touching in any capacity was kept to an absolute minimum. Now, however, in front of a reporter who would be talking about them on TV, Atsumu apparently had no qualms about placing his hands on Sakusa however he so chose. Atsumu is standing so close, too. If he was any closer, Sakusa was sure they’d be touching at more than just his shoulder; Atsumu may have ended up pressed against Sakusa’s entire side. He has a very assured grip that you would expect from a top setter, and his hands are so warm Sakusa could feel it through his jacket. He also had no doubt Atsumu took good care of his hands. If he wanted, Sakusa could just turn his head and see how nice Atsumu’s fingers were. They’re probably just the right length, with a good balance of delicate and thick, maybe a bit rough from use. _Of course they’re nice, they built his entire career._ But if, for some reason, Sakusa wanted to confirm with his eyes…

He suddenly snaps back to reality. Atsumu is still trying to give him more gifts, despite his hands already being full of them. Sakusa flushes, embarrassed to have been thinking about Atsumu and his hands while in the middle of a conversation. 

“Stop… ” He puts on a frown. He starts to put the gifts that are in his arms down on the bench. Atsumu does, in fact, stop to look at him, and _he’s so close… Sakusa can see the gold in his eyes._ Sakusa turns even more red at that thought because _who the hell thinks like that about their teammate_ . He has to get out of here, now, before he makes a fool of himself in front of Atsumu, of all people. He hurriedly shrugs off Atsumu's touch and instantly feels the lack of heat on his shoulder. Was it crazy to say that he missed it?

“I’m going,” he mutters, and walks out of the waiting room as fast as is socially acceptable. He ends up standing just 10 feet from the door; he still has to answer questions or Meian will have his head. _Shit._

“... Eh, um, Sakusa-senshu? What about the interview?” He hears Akane call out, sounding dumbfounded. Atsumu must take pity on her, shameless despite the fact that _it’s his fault, showing up out of nowhere._

“So sorry! Omi-kun is just _that_ kinda guy, y’know? Welp… See ya!” Why was he even there in the first place? With that thought, Sakusa sees him stroll out of the doorway. _Oh shit_ **.** They make mortifying eye-contact. Atsumu gives him a questioning look, amusement clear in his eyes. _Bastard._ They hold each others’ stares for what feels like forever.

“Huh? EHH? WHY??” Akane cries from the room. Oh yeah, he should probably go back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aksjdadskjf I'm sorry I gave Sakusa ... like... a hand kink?? anyway, we're kinda in for it next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot? after 3 chapters? yeah

A few months of emotional limbo pass for Sakusa as he goes about his life, practicing and sharpening his serves. Atsumu challenged him to get more service aces whenever they played, probably needing competition within competition to keep him motivated, and really, who was Sakusa to deny himself the chance to put Atsumu in his place?

He resolutely does  _ not _ think about the day of the interview. It doesn’t keep him up at night. He doesn’t wonder what it means. Most importantly of all, he does not acknowledge what he felt that day. So what if Atsumu touched him? He was a touchy-feely guy; that’s just how he was. So what if it made Sakusa feel weird? He hated germs and human contact, that’s all. So what if he had pretty eyes? It’s an objective statement, it doesn’t mean anything.

Practice that day had been particularly rough; Sakusa hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep (for no reason in particular) and his reaction times were admittedly slow. His serves were sloppy and he'd missed nearly half of his receiving drills. He wasn’t in the mood to humor his loud and energetic teammates [see: Bokuto], so as soon as the hour struck he headed out to the locker room to shower and go home.

The scolding water is a welcome sensation on his aching muscles. He lets himself sit in the shower's spray for a few minutes until he's lightheaded from inhaling the suffocatingly warm water vapor building around the stall. He carefully towels himself until he can't feel water dripping down his back and makes his way to change quickly and get out of the building.

However, as he steps out of the steam, he hears someone shuffling right outside. Sakusa looks around the corner to see a mop of damp bleached blonde hair, a slightly hunched body, and a bent leg that makes the shorts hike up, exposing a muscular thigh. He realizes that Atsumu is freshly showered and changed. He hadn’t even heard another shower start running. ‘ _ I must be really out of it.’ _

Atsumu is an objectively attractive person, obviously. The amount of female attention he gets is proof enough of that. He has the body of an athlete, for obvious reasons, and he's taller than the average person. Most notably, his waist is tiny compared to the rest of his body, and his thighs are a particularly highlighted feature among fans. He also has a smug and lazy grin that people mistake for charming, and naturally hooded eyes to match. His hair, finally bleached professionally after years of torture, looks fluffy and soft at the right angles. It probably is weird to look at his teammate this way, but Sakusa doesn't think it's too mind-boggling to think Atsumu may be more attractive than the average person.

He lets himself stare for what may be too long until Atsumu finishes tying his ratty shoes and stands up straight. They lock eyes, and Atsumu’s expression morphs from unreadable to the kind of face he makes when he’s about to be snotty and obnoxious. Sakusa glowers; he knows he’s in for it.

“Checkin’ me out?”

His stupidly inflated ego is unmatched. _Atsumu isn't that good-looking anyway._ If he was, his personality completely ruins the effect.

“Don’t flatter yourself. This is the changing room and I just got out of the shower. Of course, I would be here,” Sakusa bites back, a little too quickly. If he seems defensive, Atsumu doesn’t say anything.

“What happened today, Omi-kun? You sucked,” Never one to beat around the bush, was he? On any other day, Sakusa might appreciate how direct he was being. Today, all it did was piss him off. 

“Shut the fuck up. Like you’ve never had a bad day in your life. Just the other week you were flubbing every single serve.”

Sakusa finishes changing and begins to pack up.

“Ex _ cuse m-- _ Y’know what?! I’m ignoring that. I’m just saying that yer the kind of guy who performs the same no matter what. Kinda freaky, honestly. So, Mr. Robot, what happened? Yer favorite lint roller brand go outta business or someth’n? Found a hair in yer room?”

As Sakusa exits the changing room and steps into the hallway, Atsumu follows, intent to make Sakusa’s life a living hell. 

"C'mooooon~, as yer setter, I hafta know what's eating at my precious spikers! Tell me, did yer favorite k-pop group fall apart? Didja get rejected online? I gotta know what it takes ta break the unshakeable Omi."

“I swear, I’ve never met someone as insufferable as  _ you _ .” Was the walkway always this long? 

“No need to butter me up, Omi-Omi! Just admit that ya love it. It gets ya riled up, all hot ‘n bothered. Ya wanna kiss me sooo~ bad.” As always, Atsumu unknowingly hits a nerve, never knowing when to call it quits and just keep his big mouth  _ shut _ . Sakusa can feel a searing hot anger crash through him, sees the warning signs, but can do little to stop it from affecting him. He feels his breath quicken, feels his muscles tense as he clenches his fist hard enough to start shaking a bit.

“Stop it, Miya. I’m serious,” He grits out, trying to hide the strain in his voice.

“Or what? You’ll kiss me~?”

It comes out all at once.

“YOU ARE  _ SO  _ INFURIATING! God, it’s no  _ wonder _ your brother quit, knowing he’d have to keep putting up with  _ you! _ ”

  
  
  
  


Silence.

Instant regret. 

He stops and turns around to take a good look at Atsumu. Atsumu, who looks like he’d been struck, stopped dead in his tracks. First comes shock, with his eyes wide and mouth agape. Then, after several moments that stretch forever, his face crumples a bit in an attempt to stop his eyes from misting over. His breathing becomes ever so slightly uneven. Furrowed brows, lips pursed and trembling; it’s the first time Sakusa has ever seen Atsumu look genuinely upset, and it’s easily the worst thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Atsumu looks away, head lowering just a bit. Then he straightens and looks directly into Sakusa’s eyes. Self-hatred, regret, and  _ fear _ crawl in his guts, but Sakusa can’t bring himself to say anything, words stuck in his chest. He tries to open his mouth, but his clenched jaw won’t give.

Anger flashes through Atsumu's eyes as he opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to find the words. Sakusa waits for the counterattack with bated breath.

With a shaky voice, Atsumu speaks.

“Yer a real jerk, ya know that?”

It’s halfway to a whisper but still manages to sound firm, slamming into Sakusa painfully, going right through his heart. It's worse than if Atsumu had started yelling, or insulted him back. Then he might've felt justified, or at least felt that they were even. He desperately wants Atsumu to act the way he expected him to, the way he's  _ supposed  _ to, kicking and shouting and defending himself to the ends of the Earth. Most of all, Sakusa wished he'd never said it. 

Atsumu takes a step forward and walks past Sakusa, towards the exit of the hallway. It’s not until he’s almost to the door that he finds his voice.

“Miy-”

The door shuts with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty tame angst but angst all the same; this is the point where I wish I hadn't committed to Sakusa POV only because it would be so amazing to write Atsumu being upset and talking to Certain People.


	5. Chapter 5

Atsumu doesn’t show up to practice the next day. It’s the first time he’s ever missed a session. He’s been late before, but for him to miss out on volleyball was unthinkable to anyone who knew him.

It’s unnerving.

When he first realized Atsumu wasn't there, the first thing he'd felt was relief. He wouldn't have to confront Atsumu or avoid looking him in the eye. He's sure everyone would've noticed if he started purposefully avoiding Atsumu.

Next was guilt and regret, which wrapped painfully around his heart like a crown of thorns, pricking him with every wrong move. It weighed heavy in his arms.

Sakusa knows exactly why he's not here now, knows it’s his fault, but still acts none the wiser when Meian asks if he knows anything about where Atsumu is. 

It’s the first time he’s ever lied.

As time goes on, more and more guilt consumes Sakusa. The coach decides to use this time to get the second string setter to sync up with the rest of the team a bit better. He accommodates the hitters well enough, but they lack the precision, care, and confidence that Sakusa is used to. His spikes feel off in a way he can't explain. He's tried every adjustment with the setter, but even when everything is perfect on paper, it doesn't feel right, doesn't meet his hand correctly. 

Everyone carries on with practice like normal, but he can see the concern in Bokuto and Meian’s faces. Despite Bokuto's best efforts, the energy in the room was noticeably tamer than it would've been. Though it had been obvious that he always had a _presence_ , Atsumu had more of an impact on everyone’s moods than Sakusa realized. Even he was feeling the effects of his absence.

Training goes by at a snail’s pace, but when it finally ends it feels all too fast. He hadn’t really talked to anyone all day beyond polite small talk and formalities, and Atsumu obviously wasn’t texting him, so a tiny, minuscule part of him dreaded going back to his empty apartment. Then, as he’s about to leave, he hears the hallway doors crash open and someone borderline stomping. As he whips his head to look at the commotion, he sees Osamu coming directly at him.

“Oi, Sakusa-kun!”

Underneath his athletic jacket, Sakusa begins to sweat. Osamu’s face is dark, with brows so furrowed they seemed like they were going to touch. He looks on the brink of murder.

“Who said it?!” 

Ah. So Atsumu told him, or at least went to him for comfort. That’s not really a surprise at all; they were always pretty close, from what Atsumu described about his childhood. Honestly, Sakusa was half-expecting Osamu to hit him when he saw him. 

“What?” He plays dumb.

“Which one of you assholes was talking about me and puttin’ words in my mouth?! Puttin’ _stupid_ ideas in his head? I come home to see Tsumu all depressed ‘n shit, askin’ bout ‘do ya hate me’ and ‘is it my fault’. So tell me, who’s the piece of shit talkin’ to my brother bout how I feel?”

Sakusa stays quiet. Nobody in their right mind would admit fault to someone on the verge of breaking something, and he’ll figure it out soon enough. As if on cue, Osamu’s face morphs from seething rage to betrayed realization as he finally manages to hold Sakusa’s eyes.

“ _You._ ”

Sakusa tenses up. If Osamu is going to punch him, then he’s just going to brace himself and take it.

Under his breath, Osamu mutters.

“Of _course_ , no one else would be so shitty.”

Instead of brutalizing him with his fists, he grabs Sakusa’s collar and slams him into the wall next to them. The back of Sakusa’s head throbs with jarring pain. 

"You've got some fuckin' nerve stickin' yer opinions in places they have no business bein' in. Don't act like you know shit about _me_ or him. Honestly... Honestly, how dare you try to imply blame on him? Guess he was right about you bein' an insensitive piece of shit. Do you ever stop to think about what words mean to him, or to _anyone?_ Try thinkin' critically before you open yer big mouth again. I know he acts like a cocky bastard every second, but _God_ , did you ever stop to think that maybe he has feelings too? Some lines shouldn't be crossed no matter who ya are. I've always known he felt guilty or offended or _somethin'_ about my decision but I really thought..."

It all comes out in one breath, but he finally trails off when he realizes he's probably sharing too much. At this point, Sakusa is completely lost, but he doesn't dare ask questions in the fear he'll set Osamu off again.

“ _Listen up_ , Sakusa- _san_ . I quit because I had something else I wanted to do, _got it?_ It ain’t got _nothin’_ to do with Tsumu. Don’t go talking about shit you don’t understand, because you _don’t_. You even get the half of it,” Osamu takes a deep shuddering breath. “If I ever find out yer using me against him, I’m going to _end_ you. Understood?”

His hands are shaking. Slowly, Sakusa nods.

“I’m… sorry.”

That just seems to piss Osamu off more. He raises his voice, and the grip on his jacket comes back tenfold.

“What the fuck are ya apologizin’ ta _me_ for?? If yer really sorry, tell him yerself, asshole!”

With that, Osamu finally seems to have spent all his energy, heaving a long sigh and relaxing his grip on Sakusa’s coat. He lets his head sort of drop and takes a half-step away. Sakusa, on the other hand, doesn’t move an inch.

“Look… I kinda hate ya right now, but I know Atsumu still thinks yer cool. He doesn’t really... have many friends that aren’t also friends with me. He was really excited,” Now Osamu smiles a bit. They finally make eye contact again. “Not that he’d ever admit that.”

Osamu takes a few more steps back and lets his hands drop to his sides. Meanwhile, Sakusa is tense. The air is slightly suffocating; he swallows thickly and tries to keep his breathing quiet. He feels as though any noise or sudden movement will send Osamu into a frenzy. Even though the moment is over, adrenaline courses through his veins; he’s on edge.

“If yer really sorry, go tell him that. If he’s still feelin’ shitty in a week, I’m comin’ to beat yer ass for real. I never…” He takes a pause. Sakusa sees his fingers twitch. His voice drops so low that Sakusa almost doesn't hear him. “I never want to hear him say ‘I’m sorry I made you quit’. Ever. Again.”

“Right… I will.”

With a curt nod, Osamu starts to turn around and walk off. Sakusa's head is a thundering storm; so much happened all at once, but first and foremost he has no idea where to even begin reconciling with his teammate. In a split second, a thought comes to Sakusa, and he blurts it out before he can think twice.

“Um! What… what kind of gift would he appreciate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of chapters and I haven't started writing again because of writer's block, so if the next few chapters take awhile, I'm so sorry but there IS an ending to this story already written, promise!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get uncomfortable.

5 hours later, on the way to Atsumu’s doorstep, the feeling that he might die comes back full force. His hands are slightly sweaty, which disgusts him to no end, but it’s useless to go back and wash them. He already washed them 3 times; he knows they’re just going to get sweaty again. He considers not going through with it, but he knows he would just feel more guilty, and he spent a long time on his apology gift. Osamu’s threats were also a good motivator. 

As he carries the plastic bag in his left hand, he goes over what he should say for the billionth time. He had it all planned perfectly. He’s learned that Atsumu was surprisingly delicate and receptive with words. It was easy to rile him up and offend him, though until the other day it never seemed to genuinely get to him. Then again, the context was different. He rounds the final corner and takes a deep breath.

Atsumu lives in the shared MSBY apartment with a few other teammates, choosing to save money and live in a building close to their practice gymnasium. Sakusa’s skin crawled at the idea of having to share space with other sweaty athletes, so he opted for the more expensive option of a one-person apartment on a higher floor. Despite living in the same building, they’ve never really hung out, unless the other teammates [see: Bokuto] forced him into celebrating in the shared space. 

Now Sakusa stands in front of the door. The other Jackals were still out, either seeing their partners or generally just enjoying life. His heart pounds, but he’s not sure why he’s so nervous. Osamu already told him that Atsumu still thinks he’s ‘cool’, and he has the apology formula down to a T. It’s almost impossible to mess up, but Sakusa realizes his blunt nature is not always advantageous, and he’s afraid his honesty will get the better of him. He’s also not always great at… reading people.

He raises his fists to knock.  _ Gross _ . The door is probably crawling with germs. He hesitates, and turns his fist so the back knuckles will touch instead of the middle ones. After thinking about it some more, he pulls his sleeve over his fist so that the vinyl won’t touch his skin at all. Through all of this, he’s hoping Atsumu will coincidentally be leaving so he doesn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of knocking and requesting his presence.

It doesn’t happen. With another heavy sigh, he lets his clothed fist fall against the hollow door and raps his knuckles a few times. He holds in an inhale and waits.

Nothing. He waits a few more seconds, then knocks harder. He thinks he hears some movement, but after even more seconds, Sakusa gets impatient and knocks insistently and continuously, loud enough that even if Atsumu were asleep, it would wake him up.

“Alright, alright,  _ jeez! _ ” Atsumu finally responds. He hears him walk up to the door and swing it open. “Yer so annoying, Samu, you  _ know _ I heard y-” Words die on his lips as he seems to finally register who’s at the door. His stance doesn’t change, but Sakusa sees his gaze harden as he goes on guard.

They stand like that for many long, awkward milliseconds. Seeing Atsumu now, wearing a slightly oversized light-colored hoodie and his hair down, everything going on in Sakusa’s head completely shuts down. Atsumu's eyes look a bit puffy with redness, and his mouth is pressed into a hard, thin line. He also looks antsy; skipping practice probably pent up a lot of energy.

Sakusa feels a bit of his guilt come back, along with frustration at not being able to voice his thoughts. Being honest was never an area of struggle before, so  _ why is it so impossible now?  _ He internally scrambles to remember his speech but comes up empty.

“Uh… hi… how are you,” His first words to Atsumu since yesterday. Great, he already looks stupid. Obviously he feels like shit, or he would've come to practice. Atsumu raises a brow ever so slightly. “So… about yesterday…” This isn’t working. He decides to move on to the main event. He lifts the bag in his hand, which rustles as he pushes it towards Atsumu. “I’m… I brought you a peace offering.”

Atsumu looks down at the bag, squinting as he tries to figure out what it is. He looks back at Sakusa and appears to search his face (for  _ what _ , Sakusa doesn’t know). He must decide he doesn’t hate what he finds, because he’s opening the door a crack.

“You can set it down on th’ counter,” So he’s inviting him to talk, then. Although Sakusa knows it’s the mature thing to do, a part of him was hoping Atsumu would just take the gift and let him leave. It may be cowardly, but he doesn’t want to be in a situation where anyone is emotionally vulnerable. He has a history of handling them badly. 

Atsumu moves to allow him inside, walking to the kitchen. Sakusa tries to keep his movements calm and put-together; the last thing he wants is to trip over a foot before a  _ Talk _ . He carefully slips his shoes off in the genkan and lines them together neatly.

“Excuse me.”

He makes his way over to the kitchen, where Atsumu is leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed; he’s tense. Sakusa sets the bag down and lets an awkward silence wash over them. There’s a good 5 feet of distance between them, and it feels too close and too far at the same time. As he finally takes a breath to talk, Atsumu speaks up.

“Did Osamu put ya up to this?”

“No,” Technically not a lie. He already made up his mind to apologize before that. Maybe. Possibly. He just needed a little encouragement.

“But he talked to ya, right?” Sakusa stays silent. Atsumu lets out a huff, then a chuckle. " ' Course. What a softie.” 

Quiet takes over once again. Sakusa realizes something.

“I’m sorry.”

He never apologized.

“I shouldn’t have… lashed out at you. You don’t have to forgive me, but just know that I didn’t mean it, and I know it’s not true. Osamu-san is too stubborn to let you decide what he does with his life anyway.”

Atsumu lets out another chuckle as he rolls his eyes. He seems to relax a bit, arms going from tense and crossed to resting by his side. He travels the short distance to the small plastic bag, leaning down to look despite it being tied.

“So… what’s this ‘offering’ ya got here?”

Sakusa moves to untie the knot. He can feel Atsumu watching him, and strangely feels the need to be gentle with the plastic, careful not to tug too hard or rip it. He opens the bag and takes out a plastic container.

“...Onigiri?”

“Hand-made. I just finished them an hour ago. You like fatty tuna, right?” He’s pretty sure he remembers that from one of Atsumu’s daily ramblings to his teammates. While his and Bokuto’s love of talking about themselves initially got on his nerves, it was now showing its true benefits and rewards . He supposes he could’ve just tuned them out altogether but, well, he’s always been a person who was present and in-the-moment. 

“ _ You _ … made these?”

“No need to sound surprised. I don’t trust most restaurants, so obviously I know my way around a kitchen.”

“... Thank you.” A genuine smile makes its way up Atsumu’s face, and Sakusa can’t help but stare. He thinks he might be smiling too. He’s never seen Atsumu so soft and vulnerable. It feels like he might be seeing something he’s not supposed to. That smile isn’t meant for him. 

Is he allowed to be selfish?

“Uh.. well ya made like 10 which honestly seems excessive… I’m not gonna finish all this so… did ya wanna eat them with me?”

They’re beyond talking. Now Atsumu is asking him to stay over and share a meal. Say no, say no,  _ say no. _

“Sure.”

Well. Okay.

They make their way over to the table too small for a bunch of athletes and sit across from each other, knees knocking uncomfortably. Atsumu sets the container with the wrapped onigiri between them, but neither of them makes any moves to eat them. Atsumu seems like he can’t quite bring himself to look at the person in front of him. It’s been about two seconds and is shaping up to be the most awkward dinner Sakusa has ever had in his life. Luckily, he’s determined to leave the apartment today on good terms.

“When Osamu came up to me, I genuinely thought I was going to end up with a broken nose.”

That gets a sharp laugh out of Atsumu, like he wasn't quite expecting it. Finally, their eyes meet, and all of the tension stuck in Sakusa's muscles builds to a crescendo before vanishing, much like the first breath of air after being stuck underwater. Through all of this, he does his best to keep a straight face. Atsumu stares at him for half a beat before bursting out into more uncontrolled laughter, fueled by the nerves of before. This goes on for a solid minute, and though Sakusa can feel the embarrassment on his cheeks, he lets the laughter fill the room, knowing Atsumu probably deserves to let it all out.

"I.. I wish- I had gotten to see the look on yer face!" He chokes out through peals of laughter. He's clutching his stomach, about to fall out of his chair in hysterics. Sakusa can't help it, really, when a small chuckle comes out through his lips. Atsumu is one of those people with an infectious mood, for better or for worse. "Serves ya right," another wheeze. "-ya big jerk!"

"That was my first life-threatening experience. I'm pretty sure it scarred me for life. I will never be the same," Sakusa adds flatly, holding his best deadpan stare. It sets off another round of cackling from Atsumu, even as said man reaches for an onigiri.

"Please don't eat while you're howling like a hyena, I don't need you indirectly dying by my hands."

"Does that mean I'm going to die directly because of you?" An overexaggerated gasp. "Is this stuff _poisoned??"_

"Try some and find out."

A beat.

"I... I can't tell if yer joking.. Oi- what's with that blank face, say something! Now I'm scared!"

Sakusa's face finally cracks as a smile slips onto his face accidentally, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Let's just eat," He reaches for one of his creations and starts to unwrap it.

"... Thank you for the food."

Sakusa's evening is filled with warmth, light, and the laughter of the most unreadable heart-on-his-sleeve man he's ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *projects onto Sakusa*


	7. Chapter 7

To say that Sakusa is over-the-moon happy is a ̶ b̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶n̶ huge exaggeration, if you ask him. He simply went home after a pleasant meal. He briefly thought about ending it with a hug, but crushed that impulse quick as it came. He wasn’t in the habit of making unnecessary contact, and he and Atsumu definitely aren’t at that stage of acquaintanceship quite yet; it would just turn the evening right back to the awkward place it started. Yes, Sakusa thinks, better to end it on a comfortable high note.

Settling into bed, he allows the fatigue of the day to wash over him and lull him into sleep. Practice starts early tomorrow, and he’s already going to bed later than he should to get the necessary 8 hours of sleep, so there’s _absolutely_ no time to waste.

He hears his phone quietly ping on his bedside table, and resolutely ignores it. Nobody really texts him except Komori, and he knows better than to contact Sakusa when he’s trying to sleep. He has the Jackals’ group chat on mute, and his parents have always been the type of people to call. 

Another ping. It’s probably not important. 

The only other person who really texts him is...

He silently reaches for his phone.

**FROM: Miya**

_[11:43 p.m.] >> gnight omi kunnnnnnn ;) _

_[11:46 p.m.] >> thanks for the food!!!! was rlly good, try puttin samu outta business for me lol :p _

So it really was not important. After letting out a heavy sigh, Sakusa gently sets his phone back on the wood table. He lets himself settle back into bed, hearing his breaths even out. Infuriatingly, the distinct drowsiness of being on the brink of passing out is no longer with him. Determined to get any healthy amount of sleep before the early morning, he keeps his eyes shut. For about a minute.

**TO: Miya**

[11:51 p.m.] >> Go to sleep.

He feels something flutter in his chest. Maybe he messed up his onigiri recipe. He may have to call in sick tomorrow from food poisoning.

  
  


The next morning, at an invigorating 4:30 a.m. , Sakusa's alarm goes off, forcing him to blink awake. Technically, practice is not for another two hours, but his morning routine requires a lot of wiggle room in terms of timing. He takes a quick half-second to mentally assess how his body feels and is relieved to confirm he does not feel any of the symptoms of foodborne illness. Wiggling his fingers and toes to awakeness, he lifts himself out of bed and pads over to his bathroom.

After a refreshing shower that leaves his skin feeling clean, he changes into a long sleeve shirt and form-fitting sweats before making his way over to the tiny corner of the room he calls a kitchen. Looking into his fridge, he definitely has _some_ food, but none would be deemed a wise choice for almost 6 in the morning, so he settles on a banana and a protein shake made from powder that Bokuto insisted was great before shoving a container of it in his duffle bag to take home.

As he chews on his breakfast, he looks at his phone for the first time today. A few texts on the group chat yesterday, discussing their schedule with the upcoming game, and a few bantering texts between Inunaki and Bokuto about something he can’t begin to care about. Finally, he opens a text he definitely wasn’t ignoring from the moment he opened his phone.

**FROM: Miya**

_[11:57 p.m.] >> I AM I AM >:T ur so bossy! n e ways gnight again seeya tmrw ( ˘ ³˘)♥~ *bro kisses u* _

Sakusa wants that bitch obliterated. With great bravery and defiance, he shoves his phone in his pocket, grabs his gym bag ー making sure a few choice items are there ー and makes his way to their training facility a few blocks away. 

When he arrives, Bokuto is talking very animatedly at Inunaki, who seems to be trying to coerce the former into getting a move on.

“-and so I just think it doesn't make sense that 57 is divisible by 19- oh HEY HEYYY, Omi-kun!”

Sakusa quietly shoves his bag in his locker and begins to change into his normal workout clothes.

“Guess who I saw this morning!” Bokuto doesn’t wait for an answer. “Tsum-Tsum! He looked happy, and I asked him what happened, and he said he came down with a sniffle but he’s all good now! And I said ‘you skipped practice just for some snot?’ and then _he_ said ‘well just think about Omi-kun. _He_ wouldn’t appreciate it if I showed up blubbering like a bratty kid, right?’ Isn’t that considerate of him?”

As always, Bokuto talks a mile a minute. Inunaki seems to have taken the opportunity of a distracted Bokuto to slip away to practice. Obviously, Sakusa knows what Atsumu said to their teammate is a flat-out lie (possibly not; he may very well have been sniffling for reasons other than sickness, but Sakusa doesn’t want to think about that), but he’s not about to admit that to him.

“I suppose it is. You’re acting like he was gone for weeks, but he was out for a _day_.”

“But I missed him! It’s not the same without his awesome sets!”

“Don’t tell him that, you’ll inflate his ego.”

“Uh, well… but I already did.”

Sakusa suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and begins down the hallway towards the court; he hears the distinct squeaking of shoes. True to Bokuto’s word, as soon as he opens the door and lets the artificial light flood his vision, he sees the distinct hair of Atsumu, attached to the rest of him, talking with Coach Foster and laughing. 

Once Meian surveys that everyone is present, he calls out for them to start their stretches. Sakusa is fine for the independent stretches, but as soon as it’s time to partner up, he tenses slightly. Normally, he and Atsumu would do their stretches together on the basis that he knows for certain that Atsumu is clean, and Atsumu loves to pester the shit out of him and make up random competitions. However, even though he knows he technically made it up to him last night, he’s not sure if there’s some sort of grace period for this kind of thing or if they should go right back to the way things were as soon as possible. It may be an inane thing to question, but social competence was never Sakusa’s area of expertise. He decides to take a stab.

“Miya,” he calls out. The aforementioned Atsumu looks up from his high elbow stretch. Sakusa just looks at him with a level stare, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Right! Okay, Omi-omi, go ahead and lay on yer back fer me,” he adds a treacherous wink.

Practice moves right along and the team seems to be in the swing of things. They had been working on their individual points of improvement, so the coach wanted to see how it would all add up together on the court. For the first match, he strategically pits the team with Atsumu, who’s been working on the aim of his serves, against the team with Sakusa, who focused on defense during past practice. The set ends with Atsumu getting a service ace on about half of his serves, while Sakusa or Inunaki were able to pick up the rest. Meian tries his best to put the ball up for Sakusa, but he’s no setter. Tomas manages to at least get a good one-touch on almost all of his spikes, which leaves him just a bit frustrated. Atsumu’s team manages to take the set. 

The players rotate until eventually he and Sakusa end up on the same side of the net, along with Bokuto. To say that they were an unstoppable force is definitely unfair to the other players, especially seeing as how they were barely able to manage their victory, but Sakusa feels _good_. The team flows really well together. The final whistle blows, and the pleasant ache of a good workout thrums its way through his veins.

“Good work today everyone! Friday, we’ll be having a practice match ー I wanna see how you guys work as a cohesive unit now that you’ve sharpened your tools. Dismissed!”

The men file out to the locker rooms and the showers, where Sakusa makes a beeline for his unofficially designated stall. Although he trusts the custodians to be clean, he personally ensures that it’s spotless with a thorough wipedown of his own, and has kept it that way with a polite but insistent request to use a different shower to his respected teammates, and a threatening lecture to Atsumu and Bokuto. 

He steps out of the muggy steam feeling rejuvenated and begins to change into the clothes he came in (he’s going to take another shower when he gets home). A few stragglers have stayed behind, Barnes and Meian having a quiet discussion by the entrance. The one that stands out the most is none other than Atsumu. If he had stayed behind to practice more, it wouldn’t have been too surprising, but Atsumu was one of the first to break away from the team huddle and hurry through the hallway. In times like those, he’s usually also the first to leave the showers. 

Now, though, he’s just standing by his own locker door, fully clothed and clearly ready to leave, but still here nonetheless. He looks a bit fidgety, shifting from one foot to the other and glancing around like he isn’t quite sure what to do. When he and Sakusa make eye contact, he perks up. Still, he makes no effort to move. It’s honestly kind of awkward, considering they have lockers right next to each other because of their jersey number. As Sakusa begins zipping up his bag and getting everything in its proper place, Atsumu looks like he wants to say something, but stays quiet, mouth slightly ajar as if he can’t quite find his voice. Eventually, Sakusa straightens his back fully, stands tall and looks Atsumu directly in the eye, silently encouraging him to speak up. 

Atsumu raises a pointer finger and takes a breath, ready to utter whatever compelled him to wait for Sakusa, but pauses. The lone pointer soon becomes five outstretched fingers contributing to a small wave.

“Welp, good work today, Omi-kun! See ya,” he chirps. Then, he swivels around and walks right past Barnes and Meian out the door.

Sakusa blinks at the doorway, before giving his locker a final once-over and shutting it.

When he’s finished with his third and final shower of the day, drying his hair and treating it with products that keep it soft and full of volume, he hears the quiet _ping_ of his phone. Without looking at the sender, he opens the text.

**_FROM: Miya_ **

_[5:51 p.m.] >> hey omi i got a great idea just here me out _

_[5:51 p.m.] >> my ma raised a gentleman (not samu tho, he stinky) so im gonna make u some food to pay u back _

_[5:51 p.m.] >> WHETHER U LIKE IT OR NOT !! (＃｀д´)ﾉ _

_[5:52 p.m.] >> so go grocery shopping w me so i know what u want _

_[5:53 p.m.] >> if u dont im gonna purposefully make it nasty >:p _

_[5:55 p.m.] >> heyyyyyyy ommmiiiiiiii _

_[5:55 p.m.] >> what do u say? _

_[5:56 p.m.] >> I CAN SEE U READING THESE YKNOW _

**_TO: Miya_ **

_[5:57 p.m.] >> Shut up. I’ll go with you. _

**_FROM: Miya_ **

_[5:59 p.m.] >> as u should (｀u´) lets go tmrw @ noon _

**_TO: Miya_ **

_[6:07 p.m.] Fine, see you then._

**_FROM: Miya_ **

_[6:08 p.m.] its a date!! o(^▽^)o_

The corner of Sakusa’s mouth twitch.

Damn him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The burn is slow...  
> For anyone who wants to know: when I talk about working on their individual weaknesses, Adriah Tomas and Bokuto haven’t been working on anything physically, but they’ve been watching a lot of matches to improve their game sense (the same way Hinata observed others during Youth Camp).
> 
> OH and I don't know if this is obvious by now, but just FYI: Hinata isn't on the Jackals just yet! He's still in Rio, but he'll make an appearance soon enough >:)


	8. Chapter 8

The night passes by all too quickly for Sakusa as he mourns what he’s gotten himself into. _Why did he agree to that?_ The last thing Sakusa wants to do right before afternoon practice is to drain his social battery spending time with the most annoying person he knows. Resigned to his fate, he lifts himself out of bed to get started on his morning routine.

As he’s drying his dishes, his mind starts to wander. Eventually, he gets stuck as to why he’s so perplexed by this whole ordeal with Atsumu. It’s not really his first time having friends or going on outings with them. Though, he doesn’t really consider Atsumu his friend in the first place. Despite Atsumu researching mysophobia and the frankly insufferable amount of time they have to spend together as teammates, they don’t know much about each other. Minus all the random nonsense Atsumu tells everyone on a daily basis, that is.

Back when they went to the All-Youth training camp together, Atsumu had called him anti-social, which is rich coming from the guy who would rather get on people’s nerves than get along with them. He supposes that Atsumu wasn’t entirely wrong. Growing up, life had been… pretty quiet. The house rarely had his family in it, let alone any friends. His mother and father were bonafide workaholics, always leaving first thing in the morning and staying the extra hour late on weeknights. His siblings weren’t much better. They were both quite a few years older than him, which meant they didn’t have much of a connection. Instead, his brother and sister would stay out late to spend time with their friends. He’s never blamed any of his family for not being with him every second of the day; it was merely circumstantial, after all. However, he realizes that it did leave him lacking in the social skills department. He was encouraged to go into the park and make friends, but by that age he had already grown detached from the idea of closeness, never seeing the appeal. 

Which means… he really has no idea how to approach an outing with a coworker. He had Komori growing up and eventually found companionship with teammates and Wakatoshi-kun, but Komori hardly counted, being family and spending time with him partly out of pity (at least at first), Wakatoshi-kun lived quite far, and he had never tried to get all that close to any of his team members. 

The thought that he might be bad at this, or even more terrifying, _worse than Atsumu_ at being normal and holding conversation does not sit right with him now. So he does what any rational person would do in an unfamiliar situation: he looks up YouTube tutorials. Obviously he doesn’t want to make needless small talk, but he also doesn’t want to be at a total loss when they get to conversing. Drying his hands and laying out the now damp kitchen towel, he picks up his phone and gets searching. None of the videos are quite what he’s looking for, however, so after painful deliberation, he reluctantly decides to call Komori for advice.

“HAHAHA WHAT?! Oh my god, this is too good! You- you need _what_ from me?” The least helpful cousin in Japan almost doesn’t make it through his sentences, choking on wheezes at the apparent hysterics of his dilemma.

“Are you done? I’m being serious,” another snicker as Komori tries and fails to calm down.

“No no- I know. Don’t worry, I totally,” yet another giggle at his expense. “I can totally help you out. I just need you to be more specific.”

He feels his face heat in frustration. This sucks. He’s having a genuine crisis and he’s being laughed at by the one person he trusted. He honestly should’ve known, given his cousin’s track record. No, rather, he _did_ know, but he somehow found faith that it wouldn’t turn out this way. That’s another loss to the universe for him. 

“I need to know what to talk about with someone when you’re casually doing activities together.”

“How is that any better… honestly Sakusa, you’re not writing a manuscript, you can phrase things normally,” Komori lets out a fond sigh. “Just do what you would do with me. You don’t want to be ingenuine, right? I know I literally just made fun of you two seconds ago, but there’s nothing wrong with the way you are now. I’m sure they wouldn’t have asked you out unless they already liked who you are.”

Damn it. Now he remembers why he called Komori; despite his incessant teasing, he actually manages to give solid and doable advice. Sakusa likely would’ve come to this conclusion himself anyway, but it’s reassuring to know Komori thought it was the best course of action, too.

“...Right.”

“Do your best! I’m rooting for you on your date!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Eh…? What else would it be?”

And with that, Sakusa hung up.

It’s not a date. If it was, Atsumu would have said so… Okay, maybe he did say it, but that was a _joke_ ; it’s an expression, and Komori hadn’t even known that bit, so there’s no reason to think it’s a date. Atsumu doesn’t really treat him differently than any of the other Jackals members, and Sakusa thinks he’s made it pretty clear that he can barely stand the blonde. Plus, it’s grocery shopping. As payment and a sign of gratitude. So it’s not a date.

Besides, Sakusa thinks indignantly, why can’t two people just be friends? No, not friends, acquaintances. Honestly, what’s with society and romanticizing everything.

He snaps out of his head mid-rant when he glances over at the clock and realizes he has little more than an hour until he has to meet with Atsumu. He briefly wonders if the occasion calls for a bit of dressing up, but he barely even lets the thought appear before he’s pulling out a fitting sweater and a pair of casual black trousers. Grocery shopping hardly calls for a stylish outfit, and he’ll always prioritize comfort over looks.

Lastly on Sakusa’s mental checklist is to decide on what food to ask for. Knowing Atsumu, he won’t have put any thought into it until the moment they start shopping, and ill-preparedness grinds his gears like nothing else. He’ll have to pick something Atsumu actually knows how to make. The problem is: he has no idea what the other man can and can’t cook. He’s well aware of his brother’s culinary accolades but he… has his doubts that the skill transferred across the embryo in the womb. Sakusa figures a safe bet would be to pick something famous in Hyogo, Atsumu’s home prefecture. After a bit of research, he determines that the ideal dish would be sobameshi. It seems simple enough; the dish calls for a blend of fried rice and fried soba noodles, all in a sweet sauce, mixed with your meat of choice, onions, and egg if you’re feeling like spending more money and space in the fridge.

With that, and a final glance in the mirror, he quickly swipes a pack of disinfectant wipes and makes his way to the nearest grocer. When he arrives, Atsumu is already loitering outside, staring down at his phone looking annoyed and furiously texting. He looks… a bit dressed up. It’s nothing completely out there, but with fitting jeans that accentuate his lower half and a stylish coat, the difference between the thought they put into their outfits is clear. Sakusa doesn’t regret his choice, but he wonders if it’ll offend Atsumu that he didn’t try to look as good. As Sakusa approaches, Atsumu looks up and pockets his phone, thankfully not saying anything about his appearance.

“Were you waiting long?”

“Nah, not at all, I pretty much just got here.”

“Ah, that’s good…”

A new world record. They just started talking and the conversation, if it can even be called that, is already over. Not that Sakusa minds all that much; he’d much prefer silence to mind-numbing niceties. In a weird bout of seeing the glass half-full, he realizes that he’s never had to hurt someone’s feelings to get past the “polite talk” stage when it came to Miya Atsumu. They’ve pretty much been huge asses to each other from day 1. What happened to that? Where is _that_ when he needs it? 

For his part, he feels a little sensitive to being a jerk to Atsumu since the apology went down only two days ago. However, that gives no excuse to the other part of this duo, who has been cordial to the point of concern as of late.

“I think y-”

“So I was-”

They interrupt each other in their haste to talk. Sakusa nearly bites on his tongue to stop talking.

“Ah, you go ahead, Omi. What were ya saying?”

“You should make sobameshi.” 

Atsumu lets out a delighted laugh and throws his hands on his hips.

“Well I’ll be damned, Omi-Omi, you read my mind like middle-aged dads read newspapers! That’s exactly what I was gonna say!”

“That’s good. I don’t have to try and fight you on it.” Walking past Atsumu, he pushes his way through the glass doors and grabs a shopping basket with his hand protected by a wipe. Atsumu hurries to follow him into the store.

“Why does it have to end in a fight?” He huffs. “Why can’t ya say ‘Wow, ‘Tsumu that’s a great idea! Let’s do that. Yer so smart’ ?”

Okay, forget the ‘not being a jerk’ thing. This overconfident asshole needs to be kept in check.

“You don’t have good ideas.”

Atsumu squawks and attracts the attention of the cashier and at least two other customers.

“I take offense to that, ya know!”

“Good.”

After taking a brief glance around to check no one’s looking, Atsumu quickly flashes him the bird.

“So is there anything specific ya wanted? Any particular veggies? What kinda meat do ya want?”

“You can decide that. You’re the chef, here.”

“Prepare to have yer mind blown from how delicious this is gonna be. Osamu who? The real and clearly hotter Chef Miya has arrived,” Atsumu puffs up his chest and flashes a smarmy grin. It’s far from endearing, but Sakusa feels a warmth in his chest at the way he practically sparkles with pride. Atsumu stops preening to look over at him and holds a heavy stare with him for what seems like forever before turning his head with pink cheeks. They start walking down the aisles and gathering the few ingredients they’ll need.

“Hey, do ya check Twitter often? Do ya see what people say about ya?”

“No, because I don’t have an ego the size of Mount Fuji.”

“Screw you, okay?! Maintaining reputation is a _very_ important part of our job, ya need to know what people are sayin’ about ya!”

“Like that’s ever helped you before.”

“Stop talking! I’ve elected to ignore the disgusting negative energy coming from yer mouth. Like I was saying, yer fans say yer best feature is yer shoulder-to-waist ratio.”

Sakusa raises his brow. Atsumu glances at Sakusa’s face before letting his gaze slowly slide down to his hips, almost making a show of it, and coming back up. Atsumu turns his head and picks up a green pepper. He acts nonchalant, but Sakusa can see that the tips of his ears are a bit red.

“I’d say maybe, but you’ve got nothing on Samu. He’s crazy. He is just _top-heavy_. He borderline has jugs.”

Sakusa snorts before he can think better of it. Whipping his head back around, a look of surprise makes room for a smug grin on Atsumu’s face.

“You laughed. I win.”

“No, it’s just upsetting how vulgar you are,” choosing to ignore the fact that there’s no competition to begin with, Sakusa raises the basket to let Atsumu drop the vegetable in.

“That’s not even vulgar! What’s offensive about the word ‘jugs’?”

“Why can’t you just say breasts like a normal person?”

“What are ya, an 1800’s Englishman? Jesus, I refuse to believe you pull women with language like that.”

Oh, man. It’s not as though Sakusa is ashamed of identity, per se, but it’s getting tiresome to have to keep coming out to people. He knows Atsumu won’t care, not that it matters. Better to rip off the bandaid now.

“Who says I want to ‘pull’ women?”

Atsumu’s head whips around so fast it’s almost comical. A choked noise makes its way out of his throat.

“O-oh! Dude, yer gay? Sorry, I just uh... Have the mindset that everyone is bi until proven otherwise…”

“Maybe you should stop assuming.”

“Nahhh, I’m gonna keep projecting.”

That catches Sakusa off-guard. He doesn’t really know what Atsumu means, but he also doesn’t want to admit it. He feels like he’s missing something, and he’ll look stupid if he asks. Atsumu must catch on, though, because he clarifies.

“My sexuality.”

Sakusa stops in his tracks, his hand frozen in midair where he was reaching for the carrots.

“You’re bi?”

“ _What??_ You didn’t know?”

“Why would I know?”

“Do I really look like a _straight_ person to you?”

“You look like the embodiment of straightness.”

“Excuse m- Wh- Huh?? Is it the hair?”

“Of course it’s the hair.”

He watches Atsumu sulk for a moment and feels kind of bad. Here he was lecturing him about assumptions, and yet he also decided his sexuality based on hair? Yeah, he supposes that one is on him. He decides to quickly pivot the conversation, in order to get Atsumu to stop looking cartoonishly like a kicked puppy (the faker).

“So we’re just not going to talk about how you said your brother has boobs? Why were you paying attention to that?” Atsumu snickers, but looks a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, poor him. Obviously, I was the blessed one, because I have the better legs.”

“Of course you would make physique a competition with your literal _twin_.”

“HEY! Body type is not all genetics, okay, there's a diet and workout routine too!”

They bicker back and forth about nothing all throughout the shopping and the checkout, though Sakusa tries to dial it back when he notices the frazzled-looking cashier and takes pity on them, but Atsumu is relentless.

They exit the store with their bagged ingredients and make their way back to the apartment building. While Atsumu is in the middle of a rant about how Osamu once mixed his conditioner with bright green food dye, staining his blonde hair and skin for a day, Sakusa looks down at his phone to check the time and panics.

“Shit! Miya, you dumbass, you took way too long, practice starts in 15 minutes.”

“HEY DON’T BLAME THIS ON M- oh, shit, _what?!_ Okay, uh… I’ll take the ingredients to mine and you can just go get yer stuff and leave. Come back to mine after, okay? I still need to make the food.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s hurry, you still have to change.”

“Ah, fuck, who thought doing this before practice was a good idea?”

“That’d be you, idiot!”

“Get off my back, okay?!” With that, Atsumu starts into a full-on sprint into the direction of the apartments. Cursing, Sakusa runs after him.

Sakusa ends up in the gym readily clothed in practice gear on the dot, barely making it. Atsumu makes it to practice an embarrassing 20 minutes later. He ends up running extra laps for that, all while shooting dirty looks at Sakusa. Sakusa just smirks back; serves him right. When Atsumu passes by him doing his serving drills, he sticks his tongue out like a child.

Training goes by in the blink of an eye and suddenly Sakusa is walking back with Atsumu to their building. The trip consists mostly of Atsumu complaining that Osamu can still keep up with him even though “that fucker doesn’t even work out that much anymore, it’s not fair” and Sakusa throwing jabs his way.

When they get back to Atsumu’s apartment, nobody else is home. Bokuto went out with friends, and Inunaki and Tomas were out exploring the city together. Atsumu makes a point of washing his hands, insisting that Sakusa watch and confirm just how clean he was. When asked if he wanted help in the kitchen, he made an offended noise.

“No way! This is supposed to be a gift to you, just go sit down. If ya feel restless, watch some TV or something.”

And with that, Atsumu turns around and goes to work preparing the ingredients. Not sure what to do, Sakusa resigns himself to sit at the nearby table and simply watch Atsumu cook. He chops the green onions with delicate precision, the vegetables making a satisfying _snap_ as they’re cut into small bits. As the onions are set aside, the peppers come next, along with the carrot waiting on the counter. 

Atsumu’s shoulders are relaxed as his hands expertly grip the knife; he seems completely in the zone and in his element. His eyes are gentle yet sharp, mouth pulled into a small reserved smile as if he doesn’t even realize it. His dyed hair is mostly free of the gel but still pushed out of his face, small strands coming around at the ends to delicately frame his face.

He brings out a pan from one of the lower cabinets and pours a bit of oil while starting the stovetop. While he waits for the oil to heat, he turns to Sakusa and his small smile stretches to a full-on grin.

“Enjoying the view?”

“I’m surprised you know how to prep vegetables.”

“Of course I do! I taught Samu everything he knows,” the hand not holding the knife comes to outline his chin dramatically. It suddenly drops as he brings it down to point at Sakusa and snaps his fingers. “Hey Omi-kun, put on some music, will ya? Play me some Matsubara Miki.”

Too tired from practice to go against his antics, Sakusa pulls out his phone to find some of her songs. As the music begins to quietly fill the room, Atsumu turns back to the pan, humming and pouring in the vegetables. His hips start to sway slightly to the beat, all while he’s stir-frying and pulling the package of noodles out of the grocery bag. As he starts to roughly mince the soba, Sakusa feels his own body sag contentedly, a comfortable warmth spreading from his chest to his toes. Somehow, this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

10 minutes later, Atsumu sets the dish aside to cool and washes his hands to get rid of some of the excess juices and oil that had splattered onto his hand while cooking. He then walks over to where Sakusa is sitting, a smile on his face.

“Welp, it’s pretty much done! Now, I’ve been thinking: you know tons about me, but I don’t know anything about my dear Omi-kun! Completely unacceptable.”

“Yup,” Sakusa deadpans. “A failure as a setter.”

“Hey! It’s yer own fault and you know it!” Atsumu gripes petulantly, playfully crossing his arms.

“Well, what did you want to know?”

“I dunno, anything? How’s the family? OOH! What about a love-life~?” He draws out the last syllable, mischief dancing in his eyes as he raises both eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

“Psh, I know that! Yer way too prickly!” His voice is light, and a slight chuckle escapes him. Sakusa has heard it all before, but for some reason, it now irritates him.

“No, as in, I refuse to date. A significant other would just get in my way. Plus, we travel all the time. I don’t really have time to waste on something insignificant like a boyfriend.”

Any laughter coming from Atsumu comes to a halt. He looks a bit stiff and awkward like he isn’t really sure what to say. Did Sakusa come off too strong? A nervous giggle lets him know that maybe Atsumu was just teasing him, and he was too intense. Again.

“Ah… yer right, I guess. Makes sense…”

After a tense second, Atsumu glances at the time from his phone resting on the table and swears quietly. He rummages around in the kitchen for a few minutes before plastic tupperware filled to the brim with sobameshi is slid over to him. Sakusa looks up in confusion. They weren’t going to eat it together?

“Sorry, Omi-kun! I shoulda told ya earlier, but it kinda slipped my mind when we were running late,” Atsumu rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, offering a semi-guilty smile. “Samu needs me to do his night shift and close up shop today. It’s his anniversary, so he’s goin’ out tonight.”

“... I see.”

Sakusa makes his way to the genkan with the tupperware and Atsumu follows to see him out. As he opens the door, he turns around to look at his host.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Better be ready to beat the pants off the other team, okay?” his smile turns playful. “Have a safe trip home, Omi-kun~.”

He knows it’s just a (very stupid) joke, but the urge to point out that he only lives a few floors up itches in the back of his throat. He just really wants to shut down Atsumu’s poor sense of humor. Komori would call it stalling. Instead, he simply nods and starts walking down the hall towards the elevator. Overall, the day with Atsumu went pretty well, but he can’t shake the feeling he made a mistake somewhere along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I disappeared for like.. a month?? The new semester started in January and school was kicking my ass. As a reward for waiting so long, this chapter is for some reason way longer than the others. I used one of my late-night imagination crack scenarios so if it seems off the rails during the shopping scene that is why. Hinata joins in the next chapter so be ready >:)

**Author's Note:**

> AAAA This is my first fic ever, and never planned to write anything, but I'm in desperate need of SakuAtsu content and if you want something, make it yourself, right? I think this is a little more boring than I intended but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I plan to make art for this fic eventually so check me out on Instagram @nicki.fin.__ 
> 
> I plan to update every Wednesday and I have multiple chapters already written, so hopefully I stay on schedule!


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